


Four Angels

by UnproblematicMe



Series: After the End that never came (TV based series) [7]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, mentions of falling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:48:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29154594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnproblematicMe/pseuds/UnproblematicMe
Summary: Aziraphale is making progress translating the spell on the scroll he found in Eden. His efforts however, strain his relationship with Crowley. Besides that it is hard to find what is needed for the spell - some things seem outright impossible.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: After the End that never came (TV based series) [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1448824
Comments: 39
Kudos: 35





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to part 7 of the "After the End that never came" series. The series has progressed so far that I do not think it will make much sense to those who haven't read the other parts. But of course I would be more than happy if you read them in case you haven't. :)
> 
> As always the tags and the rating might change, but I went pretty high already with M because Crowley curses. 😱
> 
> Have fun and share your thoughts. Kudos and comments make my day! :)

Another lonely night with uneasy sleep and unpleasant dreams.

Sighing Crowley noted the cool spot next to him where a warm body should be. Since he and Aziraphale had begun to spend all their nights together, Crowley had gotten used to the warm glow of Aziraphale’s desk lamp when the angel was reading. So waking up in a dark room with only the pale white moonlight streaming through a gap between the curtains felt wrong and cold and lonely.

Ever since Aziraphale had found the mysterious scroll in Eden four weeks ago, he had been busy translating and interpreting the words.

What Crowley had seen from the notes, God had a confusing and unnecessary complicated way of wording things in writing, similar to Agnes Nutter’s. Which came to no surprise. From what Crowley remembered She had always been cryptic. Crowley recalled that barely noticeable smile twitching at the corners of Her mouth whenever Her children looked at each other in bewilderment after She had spoken.

Then, Crowley had found it funny how Gabriel, Michael and all the other good soldiers tried to figure out what She meant without admitting that they did not know.

Now, however, Crowley was worried that She could make a fool of his angel, have him hunt an impossible dream for weeks, months or years and leave him heartbroken in the end.

“You’d better not mess with him,” he grumbled heavenwards regularly at the moment whenever his eyes fell on Aziraphale, hunched over the desk in his backroom, surrounded by stacks of books and scrolls, his cocoa getting cold beside him.

Aziraphale had only been eating when reminded and forgoing sleep almost completely – well, at least sleep in a bed, now and again Crowley would find him slumped over his desk. Tonight Crowley had used his skills of seduction to get Aziraphale to bed, reminding them both who Aziraphale belonged to. But at some point after Crowley had fallen asleep, the angel had apparently been drawn back to his current project.

Sighing, Crowley got out of bed and went to look for Aziraphale. Well, not really looking for him. He knew for sure where he would find Aziraphale.

Crowley took the stairs to the shop and as expected saw light in Aziraphale’s back room. Carefully, as not to give Aziraphale a scare, he peeked into the small cluttered chamber and rose an eyebrow in surprise.

Over the last weeks he had found Aziraphale either frowning, while reading or making notes, or passed out in exhaustion on his desk. But now Aziraphale was excited, giddy almost, as he went through his notes and bookmarked pages of several tomes.

With nimble fingers he wrote on his old scribbling book, muttering words Crowley did not quite catch, but Crowley could tell Aziraphale’s tone was enthusiastic.

For a moment Crowley waited as not to interrupt Aziraphale’s thoughts and when the angel paused, stared at the wall and tipped his pen against his lips, Crowley cleared his throat.

“Darling, why are you up?” Aziraphale gave Crowley a tired but happy smile. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Indirectly,” Crowley grinned. “The absence of a pretty angel in the bed was disturbing.”

A sweet blush adorned Aziraphale’s cheeks when he got up from his desk chair to kiss Crowley.

“I’m sorry, dear,” he said softly. “But I woke and my mind went right back to the scroll.”

“Yeah,” Crowley sighed. “I figured. Found something? You appeared pretty eager.”

Now Aziraphale’s smile grew even wider and his eyes shone. Excited, he rushed over to his desk, pointed a passage on the scroll and then his own notes.

“Remember how I told you that I would need Earthly magic?”

“Yeah.” Crowley nodded. “You said Anathema would help you with this.”

“Exactly,” Aziraphale said with an eager nod. “Now, the following passage spoke of Unearthly magic but the specifications were unclear. I didn’t know what exactly meant Divine and which Demonic ones. Because it only spoke of angel, but I think I know now what it means!”

Crowley tried not to frown as he took in Aziraphale. Despite his new found happiness about his progress, the sockets of the twinkling eyes were dark, lines of worry and exhaustion ran through the pretty face and Aziraphale had to support himself on the desk lest he would lose his balance due to fatigue.

Still, Crowley tried sharing his angel’s elation.

“Sound great, angel!” he said. “What did you find out?”

Aziraphale picked up his notebook.

“I will need the power of a Guardian Angel…,” he started.

“That would be you,” Crowley said.

“That would be me,” Aziraphale smiled before continuing. “A Fallen Angel – I’m pretty close to one of those.”

Crowley chuckled and Aziraphale continued

“Further I need the Power of an Archangel and – well, this is rather difficult - an Unfallen Angel.”

Crowley furrowed his brows.

“Erm, angel, no,” he said. “Archangel is ‘rather difficult’. Unfallen Angel makes no sense.”

“You don’t know that,” Aziraphale said, almost defiantly.

“Which part?”

“Both. For the Archangel’s power I could ask Gabriel and…”

“Gabriel?” Crowley repeated, an incredulous expression on his face. “What the fuck makes you think this is a good idea?”

Aziraphale shrugged.

“Well, there seems to be no bad blood on his part. Since he even came to check on me, I believe…”

Lightning fast Crowley stepped closer his body almost touching Aziraphale’s.

“He what now?” Crowley asked, voice quiet but dangerous.

“Yes, he heard about the whole Eden ordeal and came by the shop when Anathema was here for tea on Friday,” Aziraphale said, visibly confused. “You were messing with some lawyers at the High Court. When you came back, I told you…,” Aziraphale paused and furrowed his brows in concentration, “…at least I _meant_ to tell you.”

“Well, you didn’t,” Crowley growled. “When I came back that day, you were so engrossed in your work, I had to wrestle you for a fucking hello kiss! I barely got that, not even to speak of any information. Neither did I know Anathema was here.”

“Oh, I invited her over because after our trials you said Heaven and Hell might team up against Humanity,” Aziraphale explained. “I was concerned lifting the Fading might be a first step into that undesirable outcome. I wanted her opinion on that. But she said the book from Agnes did not give her any warning and…”

“Oh, of course,” Crowley mocked. “If Anathema’s magical cookbook doesn’t ping, we can make a big red checkmark behind ‘Security of Humanity and Earth assured.’”

“Oh, spare me with your sarcasm, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, now growing irritated as well. “Agnes’ main concern was the safety of the Earth and God was on her side or at least not against her. I think we can trust Agnes.”

“Yeah, how about we trust each other, angel?” Crowley said with a snarl. “Like we used to? Anathema is one thing. But the Archangel fucking Gabriel drops in and you don’t tell me?”

“I didn’t mean to hide it! I just forgot!” Aziraphale said, full of indignation. “To imply that I don’t trust you! That… that is ridiculous.”

Crowley scoffed. Looming over Aziraphale, he snarled at him.

“Is that so, dove? Then why do you discuss all these things with Anathema, not with me?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Aziraphale said, an acrimonious ring to his words. “Excuse me for now and again wanting to talk to someone who won’t roll his eyes as soon as I open my mouth.”

“Yeah, well, angel, excuse _me_ for now and again wanting to talk about something else than this stupid scroll!”

“Well, excuse _me_ for wanting to take the unique chance to lift the oldest curse ever. A curse that brought so much pain and suffering over our brethren.”

Harshly Crowley gripped Aziraphale’s shoulder. In a mixture of concern and anger he looked at the feisty but exhausted angel.

“They are not our brethren, Aziraphale,” he said, shaking his head. “Not anymore. We’re on our side! Remember?”

Aziraphale smiled and cupped Crowley’s cheek.

“Of course we are, love,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I stop caring. If I can help them, I will.”

Scoffing Crowley pushed Aziraphale’s hand away.

“Help them? With what, Aziraphale?” he hissed. “Get together? Unify to destroy everything we love? To destroy everything we have? Us?”

“What? No?” Aziraphale said. “Maybe if they can rediscover their love for each other, their hatred will cease and with it the urge to fight.”

“What if they rediscover their love for each other, but the urge to fight remains?”

“It won’t come to this, Crowley,” Aziraphale said desperately. “I told you. Anathema…”

“I don’t care what she or her stupid book thinks!”

“You said yourself that Agnes saved us all and therefor you trusted her!”

“That was before she sent you into a garden that tried to keep you as a prisoner!”

“She also helped saving me!”

“Oh! That makes it okay!”

“Crowley, you are being unfair,” Aziraphale said. “The prophecies…”

Crowley took a step back and lifted his hands in angry defeat.

“You know what?” he said. “Fine! If you want to risk our life together because others are more important – alright. But don’t think I’ll play the ‘Fallen Angel’ in that drama.”

With that he turned around, snapped his fingers to get dressed and stormed towards the shop’s door.

Aziraphale called his name, asking where he was going.

But Crowley did not answer.

He only mumbled “Like you care,” and left the building. With another miracle he made sure the door was safely locked and all the protective runes activated.

Then he got into his car and drove off into the night.


	2. I Fallen Angel

_“We’re on opposite sides!”_

_“We may have both started off as angels, but you are Fallen.”_

_“Do you know what trouble I’d be in if they knew I’ve been fraternising?”_

_“We have nothing whatsoever in common.”_

_“I don’t even like you!”_

_“I am an angel, you are a demon. We’re hereditary enemies.”_

Crowley shook his head as if he could throw the unbidden memories out of his mind with just enough movement. Full of anger and frustration he sped up his Bentley even more as he drove aimlessly through the night.

All this lay behind them. He and Aziraphale no longer were on different sides, they had always been friends in secret and could now be friends openly. In addition they were lovers now.

No more nervous glancing around, no more looking over their shoulders, no more agents of Heaven and Hell to answer to, no more superiors to deceive or lie to.

Finally they were free and could do whatever they wanted. With each other. And what did Aziraphale do? He chose to spend his time in his backroom, reading dusty old books to translate a stupid scroll he could not even be sure who left it for him.

For whom? For the very people who had made their existence a living nightmare with only little and short reprieves. For 6000 years!

No! Crowley would not have that! Aziraphale had finally come around and now Crowley was not going to lose him again! He should not have left, should not have retreated. He would return to the bookshop and demand Aziraphale make a decision. Now! Crowley or the scroll.

It was a bluff of course. Crowley would never leave Aziraphale. But Aziraphale loved Crowley too much to risk it. At first this may seem unfair, but all was fair in love and war.

Crowley turned his car around and drove back to the bookshop. In front of the building the Bentley came to a screeching halt and Crowley jumped out.

Waltzing into the shop he called out, “Aziraphale! Where are you? We need to talk! Now!”

There was no reaction, but Crowley would not let Aziraphale pull the cold shoulder this time.

“Aziraphale! I said, I want to... Angel?”

The backroom was empty and now that Crowley paid more attention, he noticed that the shop lay in complete darkness.

A sinking feeling spread in his stomach.

He ran up the stairs to Aziraphale’s small flat and found his fears confirmed when the angel was not there. Frantically Crowley looked around for any clues where Aziraphale might have gone at this hour of the night, but nothing seemed out of place, neither in the flat nor the shop. Well, nothing except Aziraphale.

Standing in the centre of the saleroom, Crowley tried to calm himself down. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and tried focusing on Aziraphale. If he was not too far away, maybe Crowley could sense him.

Crowley frowned. Instead of a Divine signature, Crowley felt something demonic close by. His eyes snapped open and he turned towards one of the shop’s windows. At the last second he saw a hooded figure disappear and immediately he gave chase.

After storming out of the shop, Crowley spotted a human looking figure running towards the street’s corner and disappearing around it. Driven by determination, Crowley raced after it and was lucky enough not to lose sight of it.

It was a lithe person, maybe a woman - or better: woman-shaped. Now that Crowley focused on it, he was sure to feel a demonic vibe from the stranger.

He followed the figure into a dark alley. At the dead end a hellish portal opened and the other demon sped up to reach it. But Crowley would not allow it to escape.

With a growl he jumped up and tilted his body to the side. His dark wings burst out of his back, thanks to his position fitting barely into the narrow space between the walls.

Two strong beats of his wings gave him the boost of speed he needed to close up to the dark figure. Crowley caught the stranger’s black cape and pulled the slender body back mere seconds before the demon could escape through the portal.

It was a female voice that screamed out in pain when she hit the ground. Apparently the collision broke her concentration and the gateway to Hell closed. Roughly Crowley grabbed her and turned her around, quickly securing her wrists. With the movement the hood slid of, revealing long strawberry blonde hair. Crowley looked into a familiar face and a familiar pair of angry ice-blue eyes.

“Dagon!” he growled and immediately countered the surge of dark power she released.

There had been a time where she could have easily beaten him. But since Crowley was free of Hell the restrictions that came with his rank faded more and more with each day.

When she noticed that she could not throw him off, she snarled in rage. She tried freeing herself with mere physical force, but it came to no surprise that this did not work either.

Any other day, Crowley would have revelled in this triumph. Tonight however, he had no time for this.

“What did you do to him?” he asked, increasing the pressure on her wrists.

Her angry expression vanished and gave way for pain – and confusion.

“What? To who?” she asked. “Aziraphale?”

“No, Ghengis Khan! Of course, I mean Aziraphale!” he hissed. “He was fine and safe when I left, now he is gone and I find you snooping around. What. Did. You. Do. To. Him?”

“I didn’t do anything to him,” she exclaimed. “I came to check on him.”

“Check on him?” Crowley repeated in a mocking tone. “Why would you?”

A light blush appeared on Dagon’s pale cheeks and she averted her gaze.

“He… was very kind to me when we were in that cave,” she said quietly. “He remembered me and… for a while it was like… before.”

“Before?”

“Before the Fall,” she whispered. “And a few weeks ago you broke into the archives of Hell, telling me Aziraphale is in danger. And I just… I wanted to know if he is alright. And yes, I was also curious how he managed to get himself in trouble in fucking Eden of all places!”

“So you thought you what?” Crowley asked. “March into the shop in the middle of the night and have a chat?”

“I’m well aware that you secured the shop against all demons and angels who are not you or Aziraphale,” she said. “But I also know that this protection can be lifted temporarily.”

“You thought I’d let you in?” Crowley asked, almost amused.

“You? No,” Dagon laughed without humour. “That’s why I came at night. I know that unlike Aziraphale you tend to sleep. So I hoped I’d meet him alone and could talk to him. Instead I ear witnessed your lover’s quarrel.”

“The windows are soundproof.”

“Yeah, works great – against humans,” Dagon deadpanned. “Anyway, you left and so did I, assuming it wasn’t a good time. But I had heard that Aziraphale needed a Fallen Angel for some ritual and you refused to help him. So I came back because thought I could help him with that.”

Crowley scoffed, but loosened his grip, deciding Dagon was no threat.

“Believe me,” he said as he let go off her and got to his feet. “You don’t wanna do that.”

“Why?” she asked while rubbing her wrists.

With a sigh, Crowley stretched his back and made his wings disappear.

“Let’s just say, it wouldn’t be to your advantage,” Crowley told her.

“That’s nonsense,” Dagon said. “Aziraphale is not the type to harm anyone just for the heck of it. You two have a peace agreement with Heaven and Hell. He wouldn’t break it.”

“Oh, he is not trying to harm you,” Crowley said. “Quite the opposite. He is dedicating his time to solve Heaven and Hell’s problems.”

“Doesn’t sound like it would be to my disadvantage.” Dagon shrugged.

“Until Beelzebub sinks back into Gabriel’s arms,” Crowley grumbled before he could stop himself.

“What?” Dagon now stood up as well. “That makes no sense.”

“Come on, I saw how you look at her!”

“I… no, well… yes, maybe,” Dagon stuttered before composing herself. “Even if that were true. For one, why would Gabriel let her sink into his arms again? He only knows her as his enemy. For two, what does this have to do with any ritual Aziraphale might…” she halted midsentence and her eyes widened as she stared at Crowley. “…the Fading! Aziraphale… He found a way to… Did he find something in Eden?”

Groaning, Crowley rubbed his face.

“Shit,” he cursed. “I always forget that you’re smarter than the rest of your lot. Look, there is no need to attack Aziraphale, okay? There is one thing he needs that is impossible, okay?”

“Attack him?” Dagon repeated. “Why would I attack him for that?”

“Well, some in Hell might not want that and you…”

“Look, I don’t care what some buffoons in Hell think,” Dagon said. “The Fading is a _curse_ for fuck’s sake. It was done to hurt us, to punish us. Of course I want it lifted. I personally don’t care if any angels remember me, but being able to think of my former self without my head almost exploding, sounds pretty nice to me.”

“But Beelzebub…”

“…is Beelzebub,” Dagon interrupted. “I cannot change what she wants or doesn’t want.” She paused and thoughtfully swayed her head from side to side, “Well, maybe with my knowledge of Dark Magic I could, but that’s not the point. The point is, I… I care about her. Maybe as a demon I should be more selfish, but her being free from this curse weighs more than anything else.”

“Huh,” Crowley said.

“She will make her own decisions,” Dagon said quietly. “It’s not that anyone can throw her off the path she chooses“, Dagon smiled. “She is stubborn as you know. It can be infuriating, but it’s just… her. Wouldn’t be the person so important to me otherwise, you know?”

At her words Crowley’s eyes widened. Shame and Guilt flooded him.

_“I gave it away! There are vicious animals out there! It’s gonna be cold and she is expecting already!”_

_“I just hope nothing’s happened to him.”_

_“That’s it. No bones broken.”_

_“And I haven’t changed my mind. But I can’t have you risking your life.”_

_“There are humans here! Children! I mean we shouldn’t let this happen to them.”_

That was just who Aziraphale was, wasn’t it? Sweet, kind and compassionate. Aziraphale did not have it in him to stand by and watch when others suffered. Not even those who might wish harm upon him. Usually careful and hesitant, Aziraphale would go through great lengths and take a lot of personal risks to help people.

That was one of the – many many – reasons Crowley loved Aziraphale so much. And now he had blamed him for it. Now he had walked out on Aziraphale without so much as a hint where he went or when, even _if_ he would return. Crowley himself suffered from fear of loss after their trials and he knew that Aziraphale did, too. Leaving the angel like this was especially cruel.

“Crowley?” Dagon’s voice drew him out of his thoughts.

“I’m such an idiot,” he whispered.

“Yeah, I know,” she said. “But since I can’t help you with that – can I go now?”

Rolling his eyes, Crowley gave her a dismissive wave. Reluctantly she turned her back to him and was about to open a portal again. But then she looked at Crowley once more.

“By the way,” she said. “What did you mean when you said one thing Aziraphale needs is impossible?”

“Apparently he needs the help of an Unfallen Angel,” Crowley told her.

There was a shift in her expression for a moment. It disappeared soon, but Crowley had not missed it.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said before turning away again.

“Wait!” Crowley grabbed her shoulder and forced her to face him. “What does ‘Unfallen Angel’ mean to you?”

“What should it mean to me?” Dagon shrugged. “As you said. Impossible.”

“Oh no!” Crowley said. “You know something. You made a very interesting face there when I said ‘Un-Fallen’. What does this ‘Un’ mean?”

“Well, the prefix ‘un’ in the English language, used with an adjective, usually indicates an opposite, something the described object is not. Used with a verb it usually means the reversal of a process or…”

“Yeah, nice try,” Crowley interrupted. “If I were easily distracted by lots of words, I couldn’t live with Aziraphale.”

“Speaking of,” Dagon said with a raised brow. “Don’t you have more important things to do than to interrogate me? If I recall correctly, you came after me because you thought I kidnapped your angel. Well, I haven’t and still he is not home.”

Crowley’s heart sank. How could he let himself be so distracted when Aziraphale was still missing?”

“Guess you’re right,” he admitted. “Alright, leave. But I’m warning you: If you only so much as think of…”

“I have no interest in hurting Aziraphale or you,” Dagon said. “Even though the latter becomes more attractive with every second.”

“Funny,” Crowley said dryly. “See you around.”

“Knowing my luck, that’s likely,” Dagon said.

With an annoyed sigh Crowley turned around and walked away. He felt a surge of demonic power, indicating that Dagon had managed to open a portal and had returned to Hell.

Crowley did not like letting her off the hook, but she was right. He had an angel to find.


	3. II Guardian Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, welcome to the next chapter!  
> The rating M remains. We have some innuendos and implied smutty action, but nothing that calls for an E-rating. :)

_Aziraphale had not been created as a Guardian and probably he was not the best choice for it._

_Oh, he was absolutely willing to fight if he had to in order to protect something he loved._

_That was why he had stood against Hariah and Lhinael in the Heavenly Library, as they threatened the books, and then was sent to the Garden as a Guardian._

_But Aziraphale did not like fighting and - frankly - was not very good at it. So he was nervous when he entered the garden by God’s side._

_“W...what is my task, Lord?” he asked with a shaking voice when nervousness threatened to overcome him._

_She smiled as Her hand gestured widely over the creatures in the garden._

_“Love them,” She said, a simple command and yet terrifying at first._

_Aziraphale knew Love of course. He loved God, his brethren, even the Fallen ones and Heaven. But it had been like this from the beginning, no effort needed, this love was given to him. Admittedly, the love of books was not innate but had been there within the blink of an eye._

_These creatures however, the humans Adam and Eve as well as all the animals around them, were fairly new. He found them fascinating, but love? That was too big a word. Aziraphale worried he could not do it._

_But soon he noticed how easy the task was._

_It was easy to love the creatures of Eden. Not because it was an order, not because it was innate, but because they were worth it, they deserved it. It started as a small spark of affection and grew into strong unconditional love for Earth and its inhabitants._

_Especially Adam and Eve he loved so much. So innocent, so curious, so smart. They held his heart and so it broke when they failed to follow God’s orders and were banished._

_They lost Her favour but not Aziraphale’s love. He forwent the rules, gave them his sword and then followed them into the unknown._

_His love did not end with them. Aziraphale loved their children, their grandchildren and every human child that was to come._

_Aziraphale was good at love. He was willing to look closer, to emphasise and to see the good in those who might appear undeserving of love at first sight._

_Aziraphale loved Humanity through all of time._

_He loved them when they discovered, when they prospered and when they cared for each other._ _And when they struggled, when they failed, when they hated each other, he loved them more._

_Because most of the time it was all he could do. Often he felt that the little miracles he could do to ease their pain were of no use in the grand scheme of things. He learnt to enjoy the tiny blisses in the great dark sea of suffering humans were subjected to. But it seemed of no use at the end._

_However at the end, this changed._ _When it was time to give up on Humanity, to put his love for them second to the Great Plan, it mattered._

_Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate, Bearer of the Flaming Sword, Guardian of Eden and Protector of Humanity, resisted._

_He rejected every order he got. All to follow the last order given to him by God._

_**“Love them!”** _

_He was told to love them and refused to stop._

_Love which had to grow at first, Aziraphale found, was no less strong than the one that was innate. Maybe even stronger._

_There was one love in Aziraphale that grew beside his love for Humanity. Until this day it was the strongest and most important of all._

*

Aziraphale stared at the wall behind his desk. He did not bother to wipe away the flowing tears, they would not stop anyway. After trying to call Crowley’s mobile phone and his landline to no avail, Aziraphale had slumped down on his chair and did not know what to do.

Through the watery veil in his eyes, Aziraphale spotted the to-do-list he had pinned to the wall. All the things he knew he had to do to follow the instruction on the scroll.

Yes, he still, after all these millennia, wanted to protect Humanity and yes, he was sure the best way to do this was to lift the Fading as a first step towards reconciliation between angels and demons. Without the need for war, they did not need Earth as a battlefield. In addition, maybe, just maybe, the demons’ AND angels’ grudge towards humans would fade away when the Host would be whole again and able to heal.

Aziraphale could also not deny that the humans were not his only motivation. After recognizing his friend Amaris in Dagon and learning of the amount of pain the Fading had brought upon his Fallen brethren, it was impossible to stop thinking about it. Finding Amaris again had uncovered the hurt of losing her, a hurt that was real and deep, never healed, only hidden by an ancient curse.

To think that 10 million demons suffered in Hell from being forgotten by their former brethren and 10 million angels lived with constant but deeply buried ache of loss, was concerning to say the least.

All this pained Aziraphale. He worried for Humanity and grieved for his brethren in Heaven and Hell. He loved them all and wanted to help them.

And still the list on his wall was obsolete now. None of this mattered if he lost Crowley over it. Aziraphale loved many things on this planet, but however painful it might be, if he had to, he would sacrifice it for Crowley in a heartbeat.

Crowley.

Determined, Aziraphale got up from his chair. With a tissue that may or may not have been in his pocket the whole time, he dried his tears before straightening his clothes. Then he went to his coat rack to get dressed for the cold night.

Crowley not picking up his phone did not necessarily mean that the demon was not home. Maybe he went to bed to sleep his frustration off, maybe he just knew it was Aziraphale calling and was too mad to pick up. Even if Crowley was on the road, taking his anger out on the accelerator, at one point he would return to his flat.

*

The door to the flat in Mayfair opened for Aziraphale without hesitation and locked safely behind him when he was inside. Unfortunately Crowley was not home.

To distract himself Aziraphale wandered through the rooms, adjusted paintings that needed no adjusting, sorted books that were in perfect order already and smoothed out curtains that were not wrinkled. There was not much to set right in a flat occupied by a demonic perfectionist, but Aziraphale was too nervous to read and to restless to lie down.

So he wandered around without a real purpose until – when the sun was already rising – he heard the door open.

Aziraphale, just now cooing over Crowley’s plants, at once rushed into entrance area and spotted Crowley who had just closed the door and was now pressing his forehead against it.

“Dearest?” Concern spread upon when Aziraphale saw the demon’s slumped form.

Upon hearing Aziraphale’s voice, Crowley immediately spun around and stood in front of him within the blink of an eye. Harsh, but without malice Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s face while staring at him with a relieved expression.

“Angel!” he breathed out.

“Look, Crowley, I want to…” Aziraphale began but was interrupted by hot lips pressed against his mouth.

He made a surprised noise as Crowley kissed him desperately, but Aziraphale surrendered quickly, feeling the urgency to be close just as well.

“Crowley,” he mumbled after a while against the demon’s lips. “I’m… so… sorry…”

“I’m… too… angel,” Crowley answered between frantic kisses.

“I never meant to… make you feel…”

“I should never have…”

“Yes, but… I did…”

“No… I…”

They broke the kiss and smiled at each other.

“Wanna talk later?” Crowley asked while waggling his brows in a suggestive manner.

Feeling his cheeks heat up, Aziraphale nodded.

“Sounds good,” he said.

He had barely finished his answer when he was hauled up into the air and carried to Crowley’s bedroom.

*

Aziraphale awoke to the sun falling through the window from high up in the sky. Something tickled his shoulders and he turned to find Crowley, drawing lazy circles on Aziraphale’s skin. Crowley smiled at him and kissed his nose.

“I knew you needed sleep,” he said with a smug grin.

“And still it was you who kept me from sleeping after we went to bed,” Aziraphale said.

“Fair point.”

Aziraphale turned around in Crowley’s arms and snuggled against the demon’s chest. With a wistful sigh, he remembered that they still had to talk.

He decided to get it over with. Despite his own reluctance and Crowley’s grunt of disapproval, Aziraphale wound himself out of Crowley’s hold and sat up. With an uncertain and apologetic smile he looked at Crowley.

“Listen, dearest,” he said. “I want you to know that you are the most important thing in my life and I’m sorry if I ever made you doubt this. Yes, the scroll, the recipe, or ritual if you will, was important to me as well and I got carried away. But I love you more than anything else. Today I will call Anathema and give the scroll to her. Maybe she can finish without me. If it’s alright will you, I would still help her when she finds everything and still needs a Guardian angel…”

Aziraphale stopped talking when Crowley grabbed his hands and kissed them.

“I love you, too, angel,” Crowley said. “And I’m sorry as well. You were just doing what you always do: help. You showed me time and time again that you love me and if I wasn’t such an insecure idiot sometimes, I would’ve remembered that. Stupid me, jealous of a scroll.”

“I should have included you more,” Aziraphale admitted. “But I agree that being jealous of a scroll is very stupid.”

Crowley smirked and pinched Aziraphale butt cheek.

“Minx,” he said. “But yeah, you tried talking to me and I was being dismissive so of course you turned to Anathema.” He paused. “Gabriel however, is a whole different thing. You can’t let an Archangel into the shop!”

“I didn’t,” Aziraphale hurried to say. “He came by the shop, but I did not let him in. We talked through the door.”

“Oh,” Crowley said and averted his gaze. “Yeah, as I said, stupid, me.”

“I should have been more specific.” Aziraphale tenderly stroke along Crowley‘s chin, having Crowley face him again.

“I should have let you clarify.”

“I should have insisted to clarify.”

“Sooo,” Crowley said with a grin. “We’re both stupid?”

Aziraphale pursed his lips to hide his own sly smile.

“You a little more than I, but yes,” he said.

Crowley chuckled and pulled Aziraphale back into his arms.

“I love you,” he said. “But one question: Would you have let Dagon in?”

“Dagon? What brought this on?”

“Met her in front of your shop,” Crowley said. “She wanted to check on you after hearing about Eden.”

“Ughh.” Aziraphale hid his face in Crowley’s chest. “Did all of Heaven and Hell hear about this?”

“Maybe just the upper levels,” Crowley laughed.

“Not funny.”

“From where I am standing, it absolutely is,” Crowley said. “Anyway, she reacted weird when I mentioned the ‘Unfallen Angel’. She may know something.”

Aziraphale lifted his head.

“Oh!” he exclaimed. Why had he not thought of asking Dagon? She was very knowledgeable and very familiar with the process of Falling and the Fading. But then he remembered what he had promised Crowley and sank into the demon’s arms again. “No matter. I won’t pursue this anymore.”

Crowley carded through Aziraphale’s hair.

“Yes, you will,” he said. “You will not give up on something so important to you because your dumb demonic lover throws a tantrum.”

“But I love him so much,” Aziraphale said. “I would do anything for him.”

“The lucky bastard,” Crowley said and leant down to kiss Aziraphale. More serious, he spoke, “Just promise me that you don’t forget to eat and sleep – or allow me to remind you. Oh, and please let me know if any agents of Heaven or Hell show up.”

“I promise.”

“Great!”

With demonic speed Crowley rolled them over so he was above Aziraphale. Straddling the angel, he smiled and looked down on Aziraphale with golden eyes that glinted with mischief.

“Now,” he announced “About this ‘anything’ you are willing to do for me.”


	4. III Unfallen Angel

“Are you sure this is on, dear?”

“Yes, angel, I am in fact capable of using the communication device I used for almost a century.”

“But I hear nothing.”

“You said nothing yet.”

“But doesn’t one wait for the recipient of a call to say something?”

“Well, yes, usually. Maybe nobody’s there at the moment, but if you say the recipient’s name, the thing can take a message.”

“Shouldn’t an answering machine _ask_ the caller to leave a message?”

“This is Hell, angel! They are rude!”

“Oh, maybe they cut your communication to Hell after you turned your back on them.”

“Then we would be hearing music now since I turned on the radio.”

“Maybe you pressed the wrong…”

“Angel, I swear, if you don’t say your piece right now, I will give you a spanking in the backseat.”

“Threatening me with a good time, are you?”

“You’re such a bastard sometimes.”

Dagon suppressed a groan and hid her face in her hands. Maybe she should just say something. Otherwise the two dumbasses at the other end of the line might end up fucking in Crowley’s car without ending the call first.

But for one, they were pretty entertaining and for two, she would not know what to say to them. She knew of course what they wanted. Her expression had betrayed her when Crowley had mentioned the Unfallen Angel. Now Crowley knew that she knew something and had probably told Aziraphale.

Aziraphale wanted Dagon’s help. It would be easier if she had no idea how to help him, but she was pretty sure that the solution of Aziraphale’s problem was sitting in Duke Hastur’s room right now, trying to sort out his existence and driving Hastur nuts in the process.

With Aziraphale and Crowley bickering in the background, she pondered her situation. It was one thing to help Aziraphale with his ritual by assisting herself. But she could not persuade someone else to do the same behind Beelzebub’s back.

Yes, she had to talk about her first. As quiet as possible she left the room and followed the corridor towards Beelzebub’s sanctuary.

Crowley was right, as much as Dagon hated to admit it. Not all demons would approve of the Fading being lifted. Dagon herself could not deny a certain apprehension. Would the return of the angels’ feelings for the Fallen rip open old wounds? A humourless laugh escaped her at her own thought. To rip open a wound, it would have to be closed first. And the wounds from the Fall really were not, were they? 

That’s what all this was about.

The demons of Hell did not hate the angels for being angels or for still being in Her grace.[1] No, the Envy of the Damned was reserved for Humanity. What the Fallen felt for their former brethren ran deeper and hurt more.

Unrequited affection left to rot. Broken bonds breaking hearts. Unwanted warmth turning into hot destructive fire.

Heaven may have no rage like love to hatred turned. But Hell had. It was its very essence.

Dagon shook her head to rid herself of the gloomy thoughts. Thinking about it, there was nothing to lose. Either Beelzebub would agree and there was a chance of mending what was broken or she would forbid helping Aziraphale and everything would stay as it was.

As Dagon approached Beelzebub’s office, she saw that the door was ajar and heard aggravated voices from behind. Getting closer Dagon noticed Hastur’s voice as well as Beelzebub’s.

Dagon peeked through the gap and saw Hastur walking up and down in front of Beelzebub’s desk.

“Ligur is one of us!” he said. “At least he should be!”

“I do agree,” Beelzebub said. “That’s why I’m not too happy with keeping him prisoner. If he wants to go to Earth…”

“Hah! Do you know what he wants to do there? Talk to Aziraphale!”

“Did he say that?”

“Several times. Something about ‘questions only Aziraphale can answer’.”

“Well, maybe…”

“There is no maybe about it!” Hastur bellowed, his voice echoing through the room and the narrow hallway. “Where there is Aziraphale, there is Crowley and he is the one who caused this in the first place. He did this to Ligur!”

Beelzebub’s face took on a thoughtful expression. A wistful smile formed on her lips and for a moment her gaze became distant.

“There was a time in which what happened to Ligur was all we would have wanted,” she said, her voice low.

“What?” Hastur asked. “Being dissolved by Holy Water, dying while screaming in pain?”

“We all would have accepted a lot more pain back then, had it meant to go home. To be reborn in our old form.”

“That was a long time ago,” Hastur said. “I for one would rather not forget large parts of my existence, to be a clueless little puppet again.”

“So what do you suggest?” Beelzebub asked. “You don’t want to let him go to Earth and who knows what the Archangels will do to him if we release him in their ‘care’. After all he disobeyed, lied to and stole from Michael. But he cannot be happy here. After all he is an angel now and this is Hell.”

Hastur stopped pacing, put his hands on Beelzebub’s desk and leant down to Beelzebub.

“I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” he said in a dark tone. “We’ll make him Fall.”

Beelzebub laughed.

“What?” she said. “How do you think we could do that? The only being powerful enough to undo the Falling is God. You really think She’ll let us revert it?”

“We have time and we have all the powers of Hell at our disposal.”

“So? It will hardly count if we force him to denounce Her or make him commit sins.”

“You and I both know that there are kinds of pain and agony that will corrupt the purest of souls over time. If we…”

Dagon had enough. She pushed open the door and stepped into the room. With a deadly glare she focused on Hastur before giving Beelzebub a respectful nod.

Beelzebub returned the gesture and there was the shadow of a smile on her lips. Ignoring the warmth which spread at the sight, Dagon turned lay her eyes on Hastur again.

“Listen to yourself!” she scolded him. “Ligur was your best friend in Heaven and your most loyal comrade when you both were agents of Hell. What happened to him was not his fault and yet you want to torture him to undo it? Even though he poses no threat at all?”

“Ultimately he will…”

“What? Thank you? If your plan works, you put him through pain, just so he can suffer the pain of Falling and the pain of being Fallen. Don’t pretend you act on his behalf. You do this because you want him back, you’re scared you’ll lose him again. That if he’ll find in Aziraphale what you cannot be – someone who understands his situation – he won’t return. And maybe he won’t.”

“Yes, and then what?” Hastur said, coming closer. “I’m a demon. I won’t have you telling me how to think or feel just because you rediscovered your angel friend! Maybe we should question _your_ motives here, Dagon!” he stepped into Dagon’s personal space and bent down, their noses almost touching. “Maybe _your_ loyalty has shifted.”

Before Dagon could react to the thinly veiled accusation, a loud thud echoed through the room. She and Hastur turned their head to the source of the sound. Beelzebub stood behind her desk, the chair she had been sitting on overturned. Her eyes were narrowed, razorsharp, at Hastur and she was seething.

“That is quite enough of that, Duke Hastur,” she said, dangerously calm. “I listen to your nonsense because I understand that this situation can’t be easy for you. But I will NOT allow you to question my right hand’s loyalty here in my sanctuary. Or anywhere else for that matter!”

“But she…”

“No buts!” Beelzebub all but roared at him. “Out!”

She pointed at the door and even in his rage Hastur crumbled at the sight of hers. After one last angry look at Dagon he stormed out of the room.

Shocked, Dagon stared after him for a few second. When she had recovered, she cast Beelzebub an anxious smile.

“Thank you, my Prince,” she said. “I… You know I would never…”

Beelzebub silenced her with a soft wave of her hands before snapping her fingers to set her chair right.

“Don’t worry,” she sighed as she sat down. “Of course I know and I’m sure he does, too. Just lashing out.” Groaning she rubbed her face. “If I never hear about the Ligur… erm… Lhinael problem again, it will be too soon.”

A nervous chuckle escaped Dagon.

“I suppose you won’t be too happy with me then,” she said with a crooked smile.

Beelzebub let out an annoyed sound, but made an inviting gesture.

“Go ahead,” she said. “It’s not that it’ll go away if I ignore it. Another complaint about the presence of an angel outside our holding cells?”

“Erm, actually no,” Dagon said. “Asmodeus was the only one – and apparently I misunderstood what he meant when he said he wanted Lhinael... uh... chained up.”

“Oh, right,” Beelzebub said. “Any theories as to what happened? How he became like this?”

“Yes, I think I can explain,” Dagon said. “As you know, the Antichrist undid a lot of the destruction caused on the day of Armageddon. He especially revived those who died on that day.”

“Okay, that would explain why Ligur is not a puddle of goo on Crowley’s floor. But it does not explain why he is a fucking angel again!”

“Correct. That’s why I looked into the other undone deaths. Of course I could not know all the people who died on that day,” Dagon said. “But Hastur recalled killing everybody in a call centre that day.”

“That idiot! I told him to keep his body count lower!”

“No need to fret. As I said, the Antichrist resurrected them,” Dagon said. “But after learning what became of Ligur, I looked into the people working there. Mixed demographic, not a small number so you can expect not everybody to be fully healthy, right?” When Beelzebub nodded, Dagon continued, “So I wasn’t surprised to find that among the people working there on the day of Armageddon, I found several with different sicknesses, even one suffering from malign cancer – at least this was true on the day _before_ Armageddon.”

“You mean…?”

“Yes!” Dagon nodded. “Further research showed that _now_ they are all of perfect health! Even the cancer patient. Oh, and three of the people working there had tattoos –guess what? Gone! Not a single drop of ink left underneath their skin.”

“So Adam not only revived them, he…reset them completely?”

“Yes.” Dagon nodded. “And I assume that’s what happened to Ligur. Reset a demon to factory default and what do you get? An angel.”

Beelzebub hummed appreciatively.

“Well, done, Dagon!” she said. “But I have the feeling there is more you wanted to talk about? Regarding Ligur?

“Yes. Mainly I’m here because I met Crowley… on Earth.”

“What were you doing on Earth?”

Dagon bit her lip.

“Checking on Aziraphale?”

Beelzebub sighed.

“Dagon! I know how much he meant to you before the Fall and I admit the is alright, for an angel, but you can’t…”

“He might have found a way to lift the Fading,” Dagon burst out, silencing Beelzebub immediately.

She just sat at her desk and stared at Dagon. The Prince of Hell did not move a muscle for several seconds while her aquamarine eyes studied her trusted friend.

“I suppose,” she said slowly after a long silence, “we are not talking about the thrash-metal band?”

Dagon could not help the small smile forming on her lips.

“No, my Prince,” she said. “I’m talking about _the_ Fading. Apparently Aziraphale’s trip to Eden had a deeper purpose.”

“How?” Beelzebub asked, her tone neutral, her expression inscrutable.

“I don’t know much, I’m afraid,“ Dagon said. “As I understand it is a spell, a ritual more and Aziraphale managed to translate it. And, according to Crowley, Aziraphale needs an Unfallen Angel for it to work. He doesn’t know what to make of it, but…”

“…we know who this probably is referring to,” Beelzebub finished the sentence.

“Exactly.”

Beelzebub nodded thoughtfully. Her eyes found the flame of the candle on her desk, again appearing to be far away.

“What do you think?” she asked after a while. “Can he do it?”

“Well, Aziraphale is smart. And stubborn,” Dagon said, nostalgia in her voice and a smile on her lips “If someone can, it’s him.”

“Probably,” Beelzebub agreed. “Would you want it? Have the Fading lifted?”

Dagon swallowed, took a deep breath, but then she nodded in determination.

“Yes, my Prince,” she said. “It is a curse after all. Part of our punishment. It must be in our interest to remove it.”

Beelzebub made a non-committal sound, only acknowledging Dagon’s words, her judgement unclear.

“Hastur is not wrong when he says that much time has passed,” she said, still staring into the fire. “What would have been a blessing right after the Fall might no longer be one. After all, we got used to our life as it is now.”

“Yes! Exactly!” Dagon said. “Got used to! We settled in the only life that was left for us. And I’m not saying it’s all bad, but… it’s not great, right? I’m not saying it could ever be like it was before the Fall, but… just as good, only different?”

“How so?”

“The Fading only effects the angels’ minds. For us nothing will change directly when it is different,” Dagon explained. “The angels have changed as well. Maybe, just maybe, if they remember us, we could come together under new conditions.”

“And if not?”

“Nothing.” Dagon lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “ _Their_ feelings for _us_ will change. Either it will make them change their stance on us or not. If they offer us nothing or something we dislike, we just walk away. We’ve done it before.”

“But…” Finally Beelzebub met Dagon’s eyes again. “But what _if_ our feelings change? If they know us again, remember our weaknesses, are able to call us by our names… you told me what effect it had on you when Aziraphale spoke your name.”

Dagon dared stepping closer and took Beelzebub’s hand.

“The shock I experienced at that was part of the Fading,” she said. “It would not happen without it. As for our weaknesses; we are not the same beings they would remember, right?” She smirked. “Imagine Gabriel trying to manipulate the current you with his toothy smiles and charming winks.”

This elicited a short laughter from Beelzebub.

“That would indeed be funny,” she said. “In hindsight I can’t believe that I ever allowed it to work on me. Then again, he _is_ very good at it.”

At those last words Beelzebub averted her gaze and focused on the candle again, lost in thought, an unreadable expression on her beautiful features.

The air of nostalgia, suddenly surrounding the Prince of Hell, pierced deep and painful into Dagon’s heart. She let go off Beelzebub’s hand, careful not to do so too abruptly.

“My point is: they may remember us how we were back then,” she said quietly. “But they will have no more power over us than we will allow them to have.”

For another moment Beelzebub was silent, but then she nodded slowly.

“You’re right,” she said. “Whatever they did to us throughout the millennia, they did to strangers. Let’s see how they treat us if they recognize their former brethren in us – providing Aziraphale can lift the curse of course.”

“I agree, my Prince,” Dagon said, subdued. “I will talk to Ligur and then – with your permission – take him to Earth, to Aziraphale.”

“Permission granted,” Beelzebub said.

Dagon gave a curt nod and went to the door. She had just grabbed the handle when Beelzebub spoke again.

“Hastur has a point you know,” she said. “We both know how he feels about Ligur and Hastur _is_ a demon. It’s not surprising that his… affection is selfish. That he is focused on keeping who he wants instead of selflessly letting him find his own happiness without Hastur.”

Unmoving, Dagon stared at her hand, still holding the door knob. She did not dare meeting Beelzebub’s eyes now. A few seconds passed as she considered her words.

“No, my Prince,” she finally spoke. “But even from a selfish perspective it is not smart to hold on to someone who does not want to be held. Letting go off what you love is no less selfish than holding on. It is just wiser. If you hold captive who you love, their chains become yours over time. You bind yourself to an illusion. But if you let go, their freedom becomes yours. It may be painful, but at least you’re free.”

When Dagon finished talking, a strange silence fell between her and Beelzebub.

“You have given this a lot of thought,” Beelzebub said finally, surprise swinging in her tone.

Dagon’s lips curled into a joyless smile, but still she tried giving it some credibility before turning to Beelzebub.

“Oh, you know me, my Prince,” she said. “I like giving things a thought. It’s often enough the best I _have_ to give.” She opened the door. “I’ll look for Ligur now. I’ll keep you updated.”

And Dagon left.

*

To say Aziraphale and Crowley were surprised would have been an understatement. They had hoped Dagon would message them or even come by the shop. They had also expected that if she came, she’d not come alone. But they had not expected her company to be an angel.

Crowley stared at the handsome dark-haired angel like he was a ghost. Mainly because in Crowley’s opinion that was the only explanation. No, actually this guy shouldn’t even be a ghost.

“We should talk,” Dagon said.

Crowley nodded.

“Yes,” he said. “We should.”

[1] Especially since this was debatable after the fiasco with Armageddon and the following trials.


	5. IV Archangel

All the Archangels looked up. The glowing orb above the conference table was blinking and vibrating. A call from Earth was not unusual, but they all knew that no angel stationed in London called on this frequency – no active angels anyway.

“It’s Aziraphale,” Sandalphon said.

“Astute as ever, Sandalphon,” Michael said dryly.

“Thank you,” Sandalphon said with a proud grin.

“Do we… take it?” Uriel asked.

“I’m surprised he wants to talk to us,” Michael said.

“You mean after you tried to kill him?” Gabriel said sharply.

Michael just nodded.

“Yes.”

Gabriel sighed. But then he stood and touched the orb. The glowing ball turned into a screen, showing Aziraphale’s face.

“Aziraphale!” Gabriel greeted with a wide gesture of his arms and broad smile. “What a surprise! A pleasant one, of course!” he hurried to say. “I’m still a bit worried about what happened in Eden. Are you sure you don’t need help?”

“I’m alright, Gabriel,” Aziraphale reassured. “But I do indeed need your help.”

“What can I do?”

Aziraphale took a deep breath.

“I think I know how to lift the Fading,” he said.

Now all the other Archangels jumped from their seats, looking first at each other, then at Gabriel, then at Aziraphale again.

“Impossible!” Uriel spoke out what everybody was thinking. “The Fading is God’s very own doing. It cannot be lifted.”

“Exactly!” Sandalphon said. “Nobody can defeat it!”

“I could,” Aziraphale said. “I found Amaris.”

The Archangels blinked. The effect of the Fading was not as strong on them as on other angels. At least they recognized the hazy feeling as an effect of the Fading. The name of the Fallen angel however slipped right through their minds. Well, except for one of their minds.

Michael, keeper of Amaris’ name, stepped next to Gabriel to get a better look at Aziraphale.

“How do you know this name?” she demanded.

“As I said, I met her,” Aziraphale said. “It was a coincidence, we got stuck together, we talked and I remembered. It’s just one angel remembering one demon, but the theory that the Fading is eternal and universal, is proven wrong.”

“Let’s say you did find a way to lift it,” Uriel said. “Why would we help you? The Fading is God’s will. She chose this punishment for the Fallen.”

“Strange, Uriel,” Aziraphale said. “A moment ago you said it could not be lifted because it is God’s will. If this is true, what you have to fear? It will not work.”

“It could be a test,” Sandalphon said. “Maybe She wants to see if we will grasp or forgo the chance to disobey Her.”

“Or maybe she is testing your ability to forgive and show compassion,” Aziraphale said.

Gabriel smiled. He still was not over how soft and empathetic Aziraphale was. With a delighted expression, he looked around his fellow Archangels while pointing at Aziraphale.

“This is true,” he said with a happy grin. “Could be!”

Michael rolled her eyes.

“We’ll get back to you, Aziraphale,” she said before touching the screen and ending the call.

As Aziraphale’s face disappeared, Gabriel turned to Michael with a cold expression.

“Overstepping again, Michael?” he said. “I was speaking to Aziraphale. You don’t get to…”

“We need to talk,” she interrupted. “About Lhinael.”

“Lhinael?” Gabriel’s eyes widened. “Did you find him? Or know where he is?”

Michael shook her head.

“No,” she said with a sigh. “His traces vanish where he took the elevator to Hell with my key.”

“Do you think they killed him?” Uriel asked.

“I really don’t know,” Michael said. “But this is not what I wanted to talk about.”

She gestured the other Archangels to sit down again and did the same.

“Lhinael is one of the Fallen,” she said without further ado.

“What do you mean?” Gabriel asked. “Nobody falls for stealing a key. Even if it does require some disciplinary actions – unless he is dead of course.”

“Well, to be precise, Lhinael _was_ Fallen,” Michael said. “But it was undone. One day he re-appeared in Heaven and nobody remembered he was ever gone, but me. Because his was one of the names I am burdened with.”

“What? That… that makes no sense?” Uriel helplessly let her eyes flick between her brethren. “This is not possible.”

“What is true is also possible,” Michael said. “And unless you think I lost my mind or am lying…”

“I would never think that!” Uriel said immediately.

“Good,” Michael said. “This is not all. He is all angel again and doesn’t remember the Fall or anything that happened after. But he still remembers the Fallen, with their God given names.”

“All of them?”

“All of them.”

“That means…”

“The Fading is not as absolute as we thought, no,” Michael said.

“Soooo,” Gabriel said. “You’re saying we should help Aziraphale?”

“It might be wise to consider it,” Michael said. “If God doesn’t want it, She can stop it. But if the Fading clears, it is the catalyst of a huge change. We must not let it happen without Divine influence.”

“Hmm.” Gabriel nodded. “Yes. Such a huge impact should happen with us and on our terms.”

“So, let’s vote,” Michael said. “All in favour of…”

“No need to vote,” Gabriel said, his voice like ice. “I already said yes. You three are only my advisors since your little stunt with the… you know… attempted murder. Remember?”

“Of course. I apologize.”

Gabriel smiled a broad smile that did not reach his eyes.

“Already forgiven,” he said.

*

It was an awkward atmosphere. Aziraphale did his best to appear casual and relaxed as he offered tea and biscuits. At least the collective rejection of refreshments was something the delegations of Heaven and Hell agreed on.

Only Lhinael, not really belonging to either faction, became curious, accepted a cup of tea and happily ate half the biscuits. Aziraphale was fine with it. The whole ordeal spoilt his appetite. And since Lhinael only _almost_ ate the tea cup, no harm was done.

When Crowley was done closing the blinds and locking the door, he gave a sign.

Aziraphale led the delegations into the sales area where he had made some room for a large round table and enough chairs.

Aziraphale and Crowley sat down next to each other. Hesitantly Dagon took a seat on Aziraphale’s other side, Beelzebub chose the place next to her. Hastur stood behind the next chair, but only crossed his arms, staring at the Archangels, apparently waiting for them to sit down first.

The leaders of Heaven shrugged and sat simultaneously. As if they were gears in a perfectly timed clock, their butts met the seats and their hands folded in front of them on the table in sync.

Hastur rose a brow at that and took a seat as well. Lhinael, with biscuit in hand sat on the chair to Hastur’s free side, becoming seat neighbour of Michael as well. He cast a nervous glance at her, answered by an icy stare.

“Alright,” Aziraphale said. Part of him wanted to stall with offering tea again, but he knew it would not work anyway. “Now that we’re all here, let’s begin. As you all are aware by now, I think I found a way to lift the Fading. But I cannot do it alone. The ritual needs a human magic wielder which a friend of mine luckily is. It also asks for a Fallen Angel and a Guardian Angel, roles Crowley and I fulfil.”

“The Unfallen Angel seemed a bit tricky,” Crowley chimed in. “But then we learnt about Lhinael. And the power of an Archangel is the reason you’re here.” He pointed at the Divine representatives.

“Thanks, dear,” Aziraphale smiled at Crowley. “Lhinael will only help us if the leaders of Hell agree and I’m sure you,” he turned to the Archangels, “have some conditions, too.”

When Aziraphale had finished, Michael shot Lhinael an accusatory look.

“You should be on our side,” she hissed. “You’re an angel again.”

“But they,” Lhinael pointed at the delegation of Hell, “are my friends, Michael. Hariah, here is even my best…”

Three of the Archangels and Aziraphale groaned, the Fading trying to keep Hastur’s true name out of their minds. Hastur himself paled and almost fell off his chair. At the last second Beelzebub grabbed his shoulder and steadied him with a rush of her power.

“I’m so sorry, Hastur,” Lhinael said sheepishly. “I tend to forget…”

“Believe me,” Hastur growled. “I noticed.”

With a guilty expression, Lhinael took Hastur’s hand and squeezed it lightly. Hastur did not say anything, but also did not pull away.

“That,” Beelzebub pointed at Lhinael and Hastur, “is one of our conditions, by the way. Even if you remember us after we lift the Fading, don’t use our old names. Dagon and Aziraphale theorize that it will no longer knock us out when the curse is done. But still it might be painful. So that’s our condition: Don’t weaponise what you remember about us.”

“Weaponise?” Gabriel repeated with a laugh. “Why would we? Why would we want to hurt you?”

“Erm… because that’s the only thing you wanted to do to us since we Fell?” Beelzebub said.

“Well, I wouldn’t say the _only_ thing…,” Gabriel said.

“But it was high on our priority list,” Uriel said.

“Very high,” Sandalphon added.

“Yes, but you’ll belong to us again,” Gabriel said.

“What?” Beelzebub said.

“We can’t be sure God will let you rise again,” Gabriel said. “Lhinael seems to be an exception there. But only some places in Heaven are dangerous per se for demons. And you won’t be allowed in the high security anyway after your demotion.”

“Our what?” Beelzebub pressed out.

“Well, obviously, you all will start at the lowest rank until you re-earned our trust,” Gabriel said. “But don’t worry. The healers assured me the procedure to draw out your powers is painless.”

“Mostly painless,” Sandalphon provided with a smile.

“Draw out our powers?”

“Dear God, Lord Beelzebub,” Gabriel said, exasperated. “Are you going to repeat _everything_ I say? Yes, draw them out. Obviously we cannot have you run around in Heaven with powers by far exceeding the rank you will have. But in a few thousand years we sure can re-evaluate for those whose behaviour is impeccable.”

Beelzebub drew in a sharp breath through her nose while her lips were pressed shut tightly. Then, very slowly and dangerously low, she began to speak through gritted teeth.

“You arrogant, stupid and condescending bastard,” she growled at Gabriel. “Who do you think you are?”

“I’m the leader of the Heavenly forces, obviously,” Gabriel answered with a casual gesture of his hands while looking around the table with an amused laughter.

“Why would we agree to this?” Dagon asked.

“Because it would be best for you?”

“You think it would be better for us to be powerless in Heaven than at full power in Hell?” Beelzebub repeated, unbelieving.

Confused, Gabriel tilted his head and fixated her with his purple eyes. Lifting his shoulders, he said, “Of course.”

“Bullshit!” Hastur said. “Do you really think all we want is to come home? Crawling no less?”

“Yes, Gabriel,” Aziraphale tried to get a word in. “Maybe you should be more…”

“Not now, sunshine,” Gabriel said with a wave of his hand and spoke to Hastur, “How could you want anything else? You get the chance to be forgiven your stupid riot and be near Her again.”

“Stupid riot?” Beelzebub hissed. “You call everything we stand for, everything we fight for, everything we stand for, everything we are the consequence of a ‘stupid riot’?”

“What else would I call it, Lord Beelzebub?”

“A rebellion of course. A fight for freedom, free will and…”

Crowley scoffed, interrupting her speech. Besides that, he remained silent, but Aziraphale understood. After all the leaders of Hell had tried to execute him for making his own decisions. But still Aziraphale could relate to Beelzebub’s position. She saw herself as an equal to Gabriel and he treated her like a disobedient child.

“Maybe it would be a good idea to consider alternatives, compromises, a middle way,” Aziraphale said.

Gabriel rose a brow.

“No,” he said. “This is non-negotiable. The demons coming home and repenting for their sins is the only way we will allow this to happen. I thought this was obvious.”

“Obviously it was not obvious!” Beelzebub said.

“Alright.” Gabriel clasped his hands together. “We are all immortal so there is not rush, I think. Consider our offer. We will provide the power of an Archangel if you come home under our conditions.”

He stood, nodded around with a polite smile and was gone. A moment later the other Archangels disappeared as well.

“Ooookay,” Crowley said. “That went well.”

Open-mouthed Beelzebub stared at the spot where Gabriel had been a moment ago. Then she turned to Aziraphale, wildly shaking her head.

“No!” she said. “No, I won’t agree to this. Not a single soul in Hell will agree to this.”

“I know,” Aziraphale said. He was disappointed, deeply saddened. But his sadness did not outweigh Beelzebub’s indignation.

“Can you believe this?” she turned to her brethren.

“Gabriel being a wanker?” Hastur asked. “Yeah, I can. I’m a little concerned that you are surprised.”

“You’re right,” Beelzebub said. “I absolutely should have known.”

Finally her eyes fell on Dagon who stared into nothing with a blank expression.

“Dagon, I… I didn’t mean it like that,” Beelzebub said, softer than Aziraphale had ever heard her speak. “It _was_ worth a try. But you heard him… We can’t.”

“I know, my Prince,” Dagon interrupted with a sad smile. “Their conditions are unacceptable. I just… I really thought there was a chance to get it back. To get my name back.”

Beelzebub took her hand.

“You still know it, nobody can take that from you,” she said. “Nobody can take what you are from you.”

“But they did, didn’t they?” Dagon asked, dejected. She bit her lip. Then she broke and burst out, “Yes, I still know everything about my past. But half of the collective I was made to be a part of doesn’t. I myself can’t even think about my past or my true name without getting a headache, without feeling that deep pain that can never be soothed. Part of my identity was stolen from me because I have to keep it locked away even from myself!”

Dagon was breathing heavily and tears gathered in her eyes. But then she swallowed hard, composed herself and cleared her throat.

“I apologize, Lord Beelzebub,” she said. “It was a bit much. But as I said, their conditions are an insult and we will never humiliate ourselves and our brethren like that.”

Suddenly Crowley who had been very quiet spoke.

“What if… we could do it without them?” he asked.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale said. “We can’t. We need the power of an Archangel.”

“Hypothetically,” Crowley said. “If there _was_ a way to do it without them? Would you still be in?”

He aimed that last question at Beelzebub. At first she remained completely silent and did not move a muscle. Then she turned to look at Dagon again who was staring at her hands, her cheeks red and her eyes full of embarrassment.

“Yes,” Beelzebub said. “If we could do it without them, I would give it a try.”

“Even if then they might use their knowledge about you against you?” Crowley asked.

Beelzebub laughed without humour.

“Their information about us is older than fucking time. We are completely different now,” she said. “They on the other hand apparently haven’t changed one bit.”

Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand and smiled a wistful smile.

“Dear, I’m flattered by your trust in my skills,” he said. “But I cannot find a substitute for an Archangel’s power.”

Crowley gifted him with the boyish smirk Aziraphale loved so much.

“Wellll, if anyone could, it’s you,” he said. “However, I might have a different idea. No promises, but I’ll try. Trust me?”

“Always!”

“Good! See you later, angel.” He kissed Aziraphale and left, calling over his shoulder. “Bye, other people.”

Everybody stared after him in confusion. Only Lhinael smiled around the group.

“This… kissing seems nice,” he said. “Will we do it, too, when we leave?”

*

Footsteps echoed through the narrow passageways of cold grey stone. But nobody would hear them. These parts of the catacombs were forbidden because they were in danger of collapsing. They would not collapse though.

The tall figure moved through the darkness with practiced ease. Unruly red curls danced with each step as the slender man entered the make-shift lair underneath London.

He sighed, glad to be home. Stretching his back, he heard the satisfactory cracking of bones and felt the kinks disappear. With a content sigh, he sank into his beanbag, an ugly, neon green souvenir from the 1980s.

His new book in hand, he suddenly halted. Another pair of footsteps echoed through the catacombs. At first he thought it might be someone in the tunnels above or in the parallel running channels nearby. But no, he was too familiar with all the sounds down here. Whoever made these sounds was in his territory.

As quiet as possible the man stood again. Carefully he put down his book and moved backwards into a dark corner of his abode. Without looking he found his wooden staff leaning against the wall. He took it in both hands and held it tight – a reassuring feeling. It was not the same as the very first model. But it was crafted with care, artistry and magic over a long period of time to replace what was lost as best as possible.

The steps were very close now. Apparently the intruder was in no hurry for they approached in a measured pace.

There! The shadow of a lanky figure turned into the passage connected to the lair. With swinging hips it approached, still showing no signs of stress or haste. After stepping into room, it halted.

For a moment the person just stood there, but then they lifted their right hand. With a hissing sound a small flame of Hellfire appeared between the long fingers, illuminating the lair.

A handsome man with short red hair, pretentious unnecessary sunglasses and ridiculously tight black clothes stood in the middle of the chamber.

The person in the corner let his staff sink and his eyes widened in surprise.

“Crowley?”

Upon hearing his name, the demon grinned.

“Hey, Raph!”


End file.
